Open Wounds
by VoicesOffCamera
Summary: Sirius was sixteen years old when he left his family as he fled his childhood home with no intentions of ever returning, seeking refuge in the Potters' home. But the Blacks weren't about to let him go that easily. [Two Shot]
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hello readers! Well, I know the storyline of Sirius running away from home has been done to death… but I hope to put my own spin on it. This became a bit lengthy so I'm breaking it up into a two shot. Please let me know your thoughts!

 **Trigger Warning:** Child abuse

* * *

 **Open Wounds**

His freedom did not come easily.

Sirius Black had been sixteen years old when he had left his home, intent on never returning. It had been his mother who had ultimately driven him out that night. They had been having a particularly heated argument over his choice in friends, something that had become a bit of a routine since he had returned home for the Christmas break.

Walburga's voice had been heard in every room of the house, though Sirius had given her a run for her money as he had yelled until he became hoarse. She had been attacking Remus – who she would never call anything other than "the half-blood" – and Sirius had gone after their inbred family.

Following a very foul and graphic explanation of how exactly the family had become inbred, Walburga had lashed out and struck Sirius across the face with a solid backhanded blow. He had been so shocked by the unexpected physical attack – he had been watching her wand rather than her hands – that he had stumbled backwards, solidly hitting the wall behind him. He reached up and touched his throbbing cheek, finding blood. Her rings had left two parallel cuts across his cheek.

Sirius had snapped. What followed was a very vulgar description of what he thought of his mother. Before he could finish though, Walburga had whipped out her wand, screeching as she sent a streak of fire toward her son, most likely just a manifestation of her magical energy than an actual spell. He tried to dodge out of the way, but the flames caught his bare arm, burning him pretty badly before he was able to put it out.

"Silence!" Walburga screamed over Sirius' cursing. She took a slow breath in through her nose, as if she were trying to compose herself as she tucked her wand away again. Sirius was still up against the wall, huddled over his injured arm protectively as he watched his mother wearily, trying to gauge what she was going to do next. "Sirius, there is still time to fix your life and atone for your poor decisions these past couple years."

Sirius snorted at that, but she continued on. "We will be having a large, formal gathering for Christmas this year. The entire family will be here as well as a few… honored guests." Sirius' eyes widened as he saw where she was going with this. There was only one group of people that she would consider _honored guests_. "Sirius, despite all of your faults – and believe me, there are many – you have still been invited by _the Dark Lord himself_ to take the honored Mark and join his followers. Now that you're sixteen you are old enough to join the cause. You can restore dignity to the Black family name and redeem yourself as a proper heir of this family."

Sirius closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to steady himself. Then, he pushed himself off of the wall, ignoring the pain steadily pulsating in his arm as he pulled his shoulders back in order to speak to his mother standing at full height.

"You can tell your precious Dark Lord," Sirius said slowly and calmly, meeting his mother's wild eyes, "that he can go fuck himself."

Sirius knew the statement would get a reaction out of his mother, but he had not been prepared for the magnitude and speed at which she would act. In an instant, her wand was in her hand again and he didn't even have time to register which curse she shouted before it hit him squarely in the chest.

Pain exploded from every fiber of his being, consuming him before a single thought could be formed, brutally ripping him apart over and over. He had to be dying; there was no way he could live after enduring this kind of pain. He wasn't aware of anything outside of this excruciating agony. Time became irrelevant. It could have been two minutes or two hours for all he knew. He was unable to form a coherent thought in his head over the white hot pain, but words like 'dying' and 'end' along with several very vulgar swear words flittered across his consciousness.

By the time the pain lessened, he was lying on his side on the floor with no memory of having fallen. He was gasping desperately and with each breath his throat burned with the pain of being scraped raw. Had he been screaming?

"You had that coming, you insolent brat," his mother was suddenly hissing in his ear as Sirius was still trying to get his bearings. "You _forced_ me to do that. Now. Have you had a chance to rethink your manners? Will you join the Dark Lord and bring pride and honor back to your family?"

It took Sirius a minute to gather enough breath to speak. "No." His voice was hoarse but it was firm.

"You ungrateful spawn," she spat, drawing back. "I'm ashamed to have such a filthy blood traitor living under my roof." Sirius knew what was about to happen, but could do little more than shift himself slightly away from what he knew was coming. " _Flagellum_!"

He was very much aquainted with the Whipping Curse and normally the pain would be brutal, taking his breath away with each strike, but with every nerve in his body still screaming from the previous curse, he hardly felt the welts that were being slashed onto his back.

"I'll leave you to think over this honor that's been so graciously offered to you." His mother's voice suddenly sounded far away. "Tread carefully, Sirius Orion _Black_. This one decision will have a greater impact than you know."

Sirius heard the sound of the drawing room's door clicking shut. For several long minutes, the only sound was his ragged breathing as he lay on the cold floor.

Normally, his mother would let him stew for a while before sending in Kreature to reluctantly heal him and make sure there were no visible scars from his "discipline" that might be seen when he returned to school. But as time dragged on, Sirius started to realize that Kreature would not be coming to heal him this time. Not unless he agreed to take the Dark Mark.

And finally, one thought crystalized within him. They weren't going to stop. They would keep torturing him until he either agreed to join Lord Voldemort or died. And he wasn't entirely sure that the latter option would be frowned upon much.

As long as he lived in this house, he would never truly get a choice.

It was like a fire was lit within him at that moment. He had to get out. That was the thought that drove him to lift his broken body off the floor. It was the thought that pushed him to put one foot in front of the other. It was the thought that motivated him to climb the stairs, one painful step at a time, to the top floor where his bedroom was in order to retrieve the few things he brought home with him for Christmas break.

His bag thrown over his shoulder, he staggered back down the stairs, not encountering another soul as he moved through the house. He didn't care enough to wonder where everyone else was, simply relieved that there was no one between him and the door.

It was surprisingly easy to walk out of that house. He kept expecting someone to come and stop him, but no one did.

It wasn't until he was standing out on the sidewalk, shivering in the frigid December air without a cloak, that he realized he needed a plan. His body was still aching horribly and his joints kept locking up awkwardly, threatening to drop him to the ground with every step. He was slowly starting to become aware of a terrible throbbing in his back, and every few minutes he felt dangerously close to vomiting (the only thing keeping him from doing do, he suspected, was the lack of food in his stomach since he had a habit of skipping meals while he was home). All this told him that he wasn't going to get far on foot.

The longer he stood still, the more he wavered on his feet and his vision began to tunnel, so he decided it was best to keep moving while he still could. He headed up the street, following a familiar path deeper into London. It wasn't too far until he was stumbling into a small pub just a few streets over from Grimmauld Place.

"No underage drinking tonight, Mr. Black," called the bartender as soon as he spotted Sirius. "I don't care how much you tip. The Ministry's already been in here three times this week, I don't need any more trouble." He paused and then did a double take, looking at Sirius a little more closely as he approached the bar, though Sirius doubted he could tell much in the dim lighting. "You alright, kid?"

"I just need some Floo Powder," Sirius rasped, tossing some coins onto the counter.

The bartender looked at him skeptically, but reached under the bar and tossed him a small pouch of Floo Powder without questioning him any further. Sirius took the pouch and carefully limped through the crowd, heading toward the back where he knew the fireplace was.

He stood in front of the fireplace for several minutes, swaying unsteadily on his feet as he tried to figure out where he should go. The obvious answer to the question would be James' house. But he still hesitated. He had always been welcome there on visits, but tonight he was asking so much more than that.

He finally convinced himself that all he was really asking for was somewhere to stay the night. Tomorrow he would figure out something more permanent for himself, though he wasn't sure how he was going to do that since he had only his pocket money left to his name. Still, it was enough to give him the courage to toss the Floo Powder into the fire and step in.

He couldn't Floo directly into the Potters' house. In this time of war, most private homes had disconnected from the Floo Network for safety. Instead, he Floo'd into another wizard pub nearby the Potters' residence, a place he knew from sneaking out with James on many occasions.

The trip was not a pleasant one. His injuries screamed in protest as he was pulled into the Floo Network and he gasped involuntarily, inhaling ash and making himself cough violently. He barely made it out at the right fireplace, stumbling and falling to the ground. Luckily, the pub was crowded at this time of night so close to the holiday and no one seemed to take notice of him.

Sirius took a minute to catch his breath, coughing raggedly. Had it been a bit lighter in the bar, he might have noticed that he left drops of blood on the floor as he pushed himself up to his feet, fighting the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

He staggered out of the pub, bumping into several people on the way who all yelled angrily at him, but he didn't so much as glance in their direction, barely hearing them. He was feeling worse by the second and was seriously concerned about being able to make it all the way to the Potters' house, which was situated a little over a mile out of town.

He paused outside the pub, leaning on a fence as he painfully dry heaved, his body's need to vomit overriding the fact that his stomach was still empty. Some passersby laughed, commenting on how he needed to learn to hold his liquor. If only they knew.

Determined, Sirius set off, limping in the direction of James' house. He was actually relieved that there was a good couple inches of snow on the ground to cushion him on the several occasions that he fell. Despite the fact that he was wearing only a short sleeved t-shirt –probably torn from the Whipping Curse, but Sirius didn't have the energy to check – blue jeans and trainers (all Muggle clothing in order to drive his mother batty), he barely noticed the cold.

A trip that usually took him twenty minutes at most, took a battered Sirius almost an hour. When the Potter estate finally came into view, Sirius knew that he should feel relief, but in reality it seemed impossible to feel anything but exhausted and pained with every step he forced himself to take.

The Potter house was isolated outside of the small town, set on several acres of land. There was an iron gate just off the road that led onto their property, but the house itself, while visible from the road, was set back off the road a good ways for privacy.

Sirius barely made it to the gate before he collapsed to his knees with a yelp of pain, grabbing onto the edge of the gate to keep from falling completely to the ground. He groaned loudly as he hung his head and fought against the darkness that was pushing in the edges of his vision. He was so close, he couldn't pass out now just outside the Potters' front garden.

 _Get up, get up, get up,_ he silently commanded his body, but his muscles simply wouldn't cooperate. It appeared he had reached his physical limit.

With a massive effort, he plunged his hand into his bag and produced his wand. He had to dig down deep within himself to find enough energy just to cast a small jet of red sparks up above his head. He looked up at the pathetic display of magic, feeling angry at its lack of usual skill. If no one in the house had been looking out one of the front windows at that particular moment, it's likely it would simply go unnoticed.

However, luck seemed to be with him for once. As he slumped forward against the gatepost, still clutching it desperately just to remain on his knees, he heard a voice floating out from off in the distance.

"James, Euphemia, stay here. _James_. I won't tell you again, stay inside with your mother. And keep your wand out." There was a crunching sound of snow being compacted underfoot; indicating James' father was not coming down the cleared walkway for some reason. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

They hadn't seen him. Or at least they hadn't recognized him. Sirius knew that he should speak, assure Mr. Potter that it was just him and that he wasn't a threat. If he didn't, there was a fair to likely chance that he would be mistaken for an enemy trying to hide behind the gatepost and cursed. They lived in dangerous times, after all. But as he opened his mouth he found that couldn't force any coherent words out, only pained gasps. So, instead, he dropped his wand, letting in clatter onto the pavement, hoping that Mr. Potter would see it and take that as a sign that he wasn't a danger to his family.

There were several long minutes of quiet. Sirius' head was hanging and he couldn't see anything past his own knees, unsure what was happening but lacking the energy to even lift his head at this point. Just when he was sure that he couldn't hang on any longer and he was going to lose his grip on the post that he clung to, a hand came down on his shoulder.

"Sirius?"

Sirius coughed and sputtered in response, relief washing over him in a cool wave as he heard James' father's voice. In the back of his mind, a small voice pointed out that he had never had this kind of reaction to either of his own parents' voices.

"Sirius, can you hear me?" Mr. Potter was now crouching down next to him. Sirius let his head slump before pulling it back up in a weak attempt of a nod to his question. "Come on, let's get you inside, son." He pulled Sirius up to his feet. Sirius groaned as he clung to the older man for stability. "Can you make it?" Mr. Potter asked hurriedly.

In answer, Sirius desperately tried to make his legs cooperate. Aided by Mr. Potter, he made it about three steps passed the gate before his legs gave out and the ground rushed up to meet him. His kneecaps hit the walkway, but Mr. Potter caught him by the shoulders before he could fall all the way down.

"Merlin, Sirius," Mr. Potter said quietly, clearly just now realizing the extent of his injuries. "What did they do to you?"

"'M sorry," Sirius mumbled.

"Hang in there, son. You're going to be okay."

Mr. Potter shifted around and suddenly he was lifting Sirius up in his arms, one hand around his shoulders and the other underneath his knees. It was an impressive feat for the aging man to lift the sixteen year old, even if Sirius was on the thin side, and Mr. Potter would later attribute an adrenaline rush for the accomplishment. Sirius tried to protest, knowing he should be embarrassed to be carried like a child. But the protest died on his lips as he let his head rest on James' father's shoulder and suddenly felt… safe.

As the light from the house met his eyes, Sirius allowed his eyelids to slide shut, finding the sudden brightness to be painful.

"Oh, no…" came a soft, feminine voice.

" _Sirius_?" James' voice sounded strange, like there was a bit of a choking quality to it.

"Fleamont, can you get him upstairs? James, go get my bag of medical supplies from my bedside and meet us in the guest bedroom. _Now_ , James, move."

The next thing that Sirius knew, he was being set gently onto a soft mattress. He groaned as he was placed on his back, the muscles in his midsection pulling painfully as his body position flattened. The sudden spike in pain gave him enough motivation to force himself to roll over onto his side and curl in on himself in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

"Did he say anything about what happened?" Mrs. Potter asked, suddenly all business and sounding very much like the accomplished St. Mungo's Healer that she used to be. "Anything about what curses he might have been hit with?"

"He hasn't said anything coherent at all," Mr. Potter responded grimly.

"Here, mum," came James' strained voice along with the sounds of her medical bag being handed off.

"Thank you, love," she said. Though his eyes were still closed, Sirius could sense her leaning closer to him. "Sirius? Sirius, honey, can you hear me?"

Sirius made a noise in the back of his throat, but didn't make an effort to actually speak or open his eyes. He could feel himself floating away from the mortal world, inclined to let the darkness take over and dull his pain.

"Sirius, I need to know what happened. Can you tell me what happened to you?"

Sirius made no effort to respond, allowing himself to fall deeper into the darkness, hearing Mrs. Potter's voice start sounding like it was drifting away.

"Sirius, if you can hear me, I'm very sorry, love. You're not going to like this. But I need you to talk to me before I can treat you, okay? Drink up."

There was a liquid poured into his mouth, fingers gently stroking his throat in order to help him swallow. Sirius sputtered lightly, but couldn't find it in himself to be too concerned about it at first.

But then, suddenly, his protective darkness was growing thinner. He was becoming more and more aware of his body and the pain was coming back to him full force. He felt panicked as his mind started racing. What was happening?

There was a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know it hurts, darling," came Mrs. Potter's sympathetic voice, sounding truly remorseful for having to cause him pain in order to help him. That was a stark contrast from his own mother, he realized dimly. "But try to stay calm. I just need you to tell me what happened and then I'll give you something to help with the pain. I can see the effects of the Whipping Curse on your back. What else was done to you?"

Sirius' eyes fluttered open, but the room was blurry around him and he couldn't quite seem to focus on any one thing. He gasped for breath and his fingers dug into the comforter on the bed, gripping it tight as he groaned through gritted teeth.

"Sirius, it's going to be okay." It was James' voice this time. Suddenly he was able to focus on James' face, his best friend kneeling at his bedside and looking at him with worry and a touch of fear in his features. "My mum is going to help you. But you have to tell her what's been done to you so she knows what to do."

Sirius inhaled sharply, willing himself some sort of composure as he choked out words. "M-my mother and I… we had a f-fight." He took in another harsh breath as the pain continued to grow. There was no part of him that hurt more than the other; it was like this pain consumed every fiber of his being. "S-she scratched my face." He swallowed and winced. "B-burned my arm." He squeezed his eyes shut, hating the way that his voice broke, making him sound weak.

"What else did she do?" James urged, his voice decidedly even, though Sirius could still hear the anger that boiled just under the surface.

"She… used the Cru…" His voice caught in his throat, but he wasn't so sure it was because of the pain this time. He hadn't had much time to think about what curse she had used on him before the Whipping Curse… but thinking back, it had been obvious. There was no other curse that could cause pain like this. "C-Cruciat-" He was cut off as a sudden coughing fit tore through him.

"No…" Mrs. Potter gasped in shock, taking his meaning without him having to choke out the entire name of the Torture Curse.

"Mum," James said quickly, alarm and fear in his voice. "Mum, he's coughing up blood."

Sirius glanced down and saw that the white comforter that was beneath him was now spotted with red. His heartbeat sped up with barely contained panic. He knew that was a very serious thing, just now realizing that internal damage may have been done.

But Mrs. Potter had quickly regained her composure, speaking to him calmly. "It's going to be alright, darling." She was rummaging with something that Sirius couldn't see on the floor. "I'm going to give you something to help you rest. When you wake up, you'll feel much better, I promise, love. Okay?"

Sirius held on to Mrs. Potter's assurances and kind tone like a lifeline, with no idea that she was putting on a calm face for his benefit. No idea that the extent of his injuries truly frightened her.

Mrs. Potter lifted his head a bit and gave him a drink from a vial. He coughed on the liquid, causing his body to pulsate with even more pain than what he had been experiencing. But immediately, the comforting darkness began to push in on him again. He didn't fight it and within seconds everything faded away.

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 **Author's Note:** Thoughts? It's not over yet, keep an eye out for the second part soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who has already reviewed so far, it is very much appreciated! As promised, here is part two! Keep in mind that this is from Sirius' point of view, so I deliberately refer to James' parents and Sirius' parents differently. James' parents are mostly referred to as "Mr. and Mrs. Potter" because Sirius has respect for them. In contrast, Sirius' parents are mostly referred to as "Orion and Walburga" to show the lack of respect he has for them.

Hope you like it! Please don't forget to review!

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 **Part Two**

Sirius awoke suddenly, gasping for breath as he sat straight up, details of the nightmare he had been having slipping away like water through his fingers. The involuntary movement caused him to yelp as pain shot through his body. His hands went to his chest, where the worst of the pain was concentrated, as he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself.

After taking a few minutes to gather himself, he carefully squinted his eyes open again, wary of what he would find. But, strangely, the dark walls of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place did not come into focus. These walls were much brighter, and the curtains of the large windows had been thrown open, letting in copious amounts of bright sunlight.

Sirius swallowed as he gazed around him, confused, his mind slow to process his surroundings. Then, very suddenly memories from the night before came rushing back to him in a crashing wave. The argument with his mother. The Cruciatus Curse. Him fleeing his home. The painful trek to James' house.

With a great effort, Sirius pushed himself to the edge of the mattress so that his feet were hanging down to the floor. If he sat there any longer he would be overwhelmed with memories, and for now he was content to not think about anything that had happened. He tested his muscles carefully as he pushed himself to his feet, one hand on the headboard of the bed in order to help him balance. He still felt achy and sore throughout most of his body, but nowhere near the pain he had felt before.

He shuffled across the room and slowly opened the door, peering out into the hallway. It was deserted. Finding this to be a little odd, Sirius walked out the door and took the familiar path from the Potters' second floor guest room to the stairs, the path coming easily to him after visiting so many times over the years, as if he were walking the halls of his own home.

The stairs were admittedly more difficult to conquer than he thought they'd be. His muscles all felt like they were wound tight around his bones, stretching from one step to the next painfully. He winced with every step, holding tight to the bannister to keep himself steady.

The sitting room at the bottom of the stairs was also empty. Sirius stared around curiously until he heard voices coming from the kitchen.

"He had to have Floo'd to that pub up in town and then walked here," came James' voice as Sirius approached. Sirius slowed down, pausing just out of sight of the kitchen. "He's done that before. I dunno how else he could have gotten all the way here from London."

"Well, if that is how he got here, it's nothing short of a miracle he was able to make it this far on foot from the pub," came Mrs. Potter's worn voice. Judging by the sounds to footsteps and banging pots, he figured she must have been cooking. "The internal damage done by that curse…" Her voice trailed off like it was too painful to talk about. "I can't believe a parent could do that to their own _child_."

"Has he ever talked about his parents doing anything like this before?" It was Mr. Potter's voice this time.

"Not really," James admitted. "He doesn't talk much at all about his home life at all if he can help it. He's definitely never mentioned… physical abuse before." James' voice was pained and Sirius winced in sympathy. "But the emotional abuse alone is killing him. He puts on a good face most of the time, but I can see that they make him feel absolutely worthless. There's something… dark about him when he's around them or gets a letter from them."

"That poor boy," Mrs. Potter said quietly.

"He can't go back," James said firmly. "We can't send him back there. They're going to kill him."

Sirius stepped forward, hanging onto the frame of the doorway for support. A quick survey of the room showed Mrs. Potter moving about the counters while preparing food, Mr. Potter sitting at the kitchen table nursing a steaming mug, and James sitting on top of one of the counters, his legs swinging nervously.

"I'm not going back," Sirius announced.

They all turned in surprise at the sound of his voice, clearly having no idea that he was up and about.

"Oh, Sirius, what are you doing up?" Mrs. Potter asked as she hurried over to him. "You should be resting."

"James is right," Sirius went on as if she hadn't spoken, desperate to make them understand. "I can't go back there, not now." His voice was strained with the implications of that statement. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his courage for what he wanted to ask of them. "I wonder… I wonder if I might stay here? Just for a night or two. Just until I can figure out something more permanent." Dare he hope that the Potters offer to let him stay the remainder of the Christmas break?

For a moment, Mrs. Potter looked taken aback, and Sirius was afraid that he had offended her with the request. But then her features softened.

"Come here," she said, opening her arms to him and beckoning him forward. On an instinct that he had only developed after spending time with James' mother, Sirius moved forward and allowed her to wrap her arms around him. He returned the hug, burying his head into her shoulder and inhaling deep her comforting scent. "You will stay here as long as you'd like," she stated matter-of-factly as she rubbed his back gently. "You should know by now, you will always have a safe place to stay here, darling."

At the words, Sirius felt something welling up inside him, an emotion he couldn't quite identify. His vision blurred for a moment, but as he blinked, it cleared again.

"Thank you," he managed, his voice wavering.

Mrs. Potter gave him a gentle squeeze before taking a step back, though she kept a hand on his shoulder, seeming concerned with Sirius' ability to keep himself upright. Sirius decided the concern wasn't entirely unfounded, as he was feeling rather unsteady.

"James, why don't you take Sirius out into the sitting room while I finish up breakfast," Mrs. Potter said.

"Sure," James agreed, hopping down off the counter and crossing the room. He gave Sirius a strained smile. "Let's go."

James tossed one arm over his shoulder, and Sirius immediately knew what he was doing. It was something they would do for Remus after he had a particularly rough transformation. James put none of his own weight on Sirius, but the position allowed Sirius to grab onto James' wrists, which rested on his shoulder, with one hand and discreetly take hold of James' shirt with his other hand. This allowed Sirius to use James to support himself, while masking that fact with a casual gesture.

They made their way into the sitting room like that, Sirius still stumbling unsteadily, his body pulsing with more pain the longer he remained standing. He couldn't help but feel relieved as James helped him in an overstuffed armchair by the front window.

"How are you feeling?" James asked carefully as he sat on the edge of a nearby couch.

"Like I fell off my broom, hit the ground several hundred feet below, and then was set on fire," Sirius said, deadpan. But then he grinned, even though the gesture felt out of place on his face. "But other than that, just peachy."

James didn't return his smile though, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face. "Do you want to talk about it? About what happened?"

Sirius sighed. "I really don't."

"But—"

"Please, James," Sirius said, his tone suddenly betraying how exhausted he was. This went beyond just a physical exhaustion. His complete being – mind, body and spirit – felt worn. "Not right now."

"Okay," James allowed reluctantly as he leaned back into the couch.

They lapsed into silence, which was odd for the usually hyperactive teenagers. Sirius let his mind grow blank as his gaze wandered until he was looking vacantly out a nearby window.

He was staring across the front lawn, looking at nothing in particular when it happened. There was the distant crack of Apparation. A figure had appeared just a little ways down the road. Sirius didn't think much of this at first; after all they were very close to a wizard town. However, after a brief pause, the figure started making its way in their direction, rather than heading toward town. Sirius watched curiously. It wasn't until he reached the front gate that he recognized him.

It was his father.

For a moment, Sirius forgot to breath. He hadn't seen Orion since before the fight he had with Walburga. He was suddenly on the edge of his seat despite the protest from his still burdened body.

"James," he gasped on a sharp intake of air.

James was on his feet in a heartbeat, hurrying over to him. "What is it?" he asked. But Sirius didn't have to answer. As he looked out the window he visibly tensed at what he saw. "Dad!" he called urgently.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter immediately came hurrying out of the kitchen to see what was wrong. Sirius was practically shaking. He was berating himself for thinking that it could be that easy to walk away from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

It took James' parents no time to assess the situation through the window. Mr. Potter looked over at the boys sternly.

"Stay inside," Mr. Potter ordered, his eyes lingering on Sirius.

Then he turned and headed out the front door. He went to close the door behind him but in his haste the latch didn't quite clasp and the door bounced open a crack, letting them clearly hear what was going on outside. Sirius was pushing himself up out of the chair, grabbing onto the windowsill for support so that he could better see out the window.

Mr. Potter stood on his front porch and as Mr. Black approached he stopped just short of the porch steps and looked up at James' father with cool indifference.

"Good morning, Fleamont," he said smoothly. There were no emotions in his tone; it was as if they were merely passing on the street.

"You are not welcome here, Orion," James' father responded.

Orion seemed unaffected by this greeting, hardly appearing to have registered it at all. "I'm looking for my son. Is he here?" He said the phrase so casually as if asking about the weather.

"He is," Mr. Potter said stiffly. "But he does not want to see you."

Orion didn't appear surprised. He regarded Mr. Potter with a cool gaze and spoke with conviction. "My son is sixteen years old; he does not have a choice. He _will_ see me."

"No, he will not," Mr. Potter countered angrily. Suddenly his wand was in his hand. "Now leave my house."

"I am not going anywhere until I see my son," Orion stated.

James shifted beside Sirius and glanced over at him. "Don't worry," he said in an undertone. "My dad won't let him get past him."

But that wasn't comforting to Sirius. He had brought this to the Potter's house; he had brought his problems here. The least that he could do was not hide behind the Potters' skirts like a child.

Clearly no one had expected him to move, because he had shuffled halfway to the front door before anyone seemed to take notice.

"Sirius, don't –" James started with alarm, but it was too late.

Sirius pulled open the front door and stepped out onto the porch.

"What do you want?" Sirius demanded coldly.

Mr. Potter whipped around at the sound of Sirius' voice, his eyes widening when he spotted him. Sirius felt someone grab his upper arm, glancing behind him to find that James had come out behind him, his eyes blazing as he looked passed Sirius to where Orion stood, calmly watching the situation.

"Sirius, stay where you are," Mr. Potter commanded, putting an arm out in front of him protectively, his wand still at the ready in his other hand.

"My son was not raised to be a coward," Orion stated, his eyes darkening as he observed the skinny, older man with a mess of black hair standing between him and his son. "He can fight his own battles, Fleamont." His eyes shifted and Sirius found that he couldn't help the cold feeling that flooded through him as they met gazes. "Isn't that right, Sirius? If you can take off in the middle of the night without a word to anyone, surely you are capable of facing me like the man that you clearly think yourself to be."

Sirius stiffened at the challenge, even though he knew that his father was baiting him. He took a small step forward and carefully pushed Mr. Potter's arm away. He could feel James' hand tighten on his arm.

"It's alright," he said evenly, glancing at Mr. Potter. Then he leveled his gaze back on his own father. "You said you wanted to see me. Well, here I am." He narrowed his eyes, trying to mask the fact that he was having a hard time standing steady. "Disappointed when you found that I was not still lying on the floor of the drawing room after my _talk_ with Mother?" He spat the word 'talk' like a curse.

Orion sighed, looking mildly annoyed at that. "You're mother has a tendency to be a bit… dramatic. You know that. And you should not have provoked her."

" _I_ shouldn't have provoked _her_?" Sirius demanded hoarsely, his eyes bulging.

"This is hardly the place to discuss this," Orion said stiffly, his eyes straying to James and then his father before returning to his son. "Come home and we will talk about this."

Sirius scoffed at that. " _Talk_? You people have never been interested in what _I_ have to say, not even when it comes to decisions about _my own life_!"

"Sirius," Orion said warningly.

"No!" Sirius practically shouted. "No, I'm done! You can drag me back there against my will if you wish, but the moment that I turn seventeen I'll be right back out that door. Even if you manage to brand me with the Dark Mark, you can't control me forever. So why don't you do us both a favor and save us another year of misery as you try and fail to brainwash me. It hasn't worked for the last sixteen years and it's not going to work now."

Orion's eyes were blazing. "How dare you defy me?" he hissed. "How dare you shame this family!"

Sirius was aware of Mr. Potter's movements before he realized that his father had his wand out and was pointing it right at him.

"Don't you dare, Orion," Mr. Potter snapped as he moved between Sirius and his father. Sirius couldn't help but take a small step back as he looked up at James' father. He had never seen him so angry before. "You've put this boy through enough, I will not stand for any more abuse, especially on my property. I demand that you leave immediately."

"He is _my son_ ," Orion spat. "He is the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Until he is of age, he belongs _to me_. And I am not leaving without him."

"He does not _belong_ to you," Mr. Potter growled. "You do not _deserve_ him. And you will not take him." He glared. "If you care to dispute me on this matter, feel free to take it up with the Ministry. We would love to present what my wife found when she healed him last night."

Orion's gaze narrowed. "You couldn't—"

"Trace it back to you and your family?" Mr. Potter cut him off sharply. "Perhaps not, with your wealth and influence. But we can make the investigation process as difficult as possible while dragging your precious Black family name through the bowels of every tabloid in the country."

Orion opened his mouth and then shut it again, fuming. Sirius looked up at James' father in awe. He had actually rendered his father speechless. In his entire life, Sirius had never seen anyone do that before.

Sirius took a deep breath. His heart was beating hard in his chest and he was feeling more unstable by the minute. He tried to discreetly lean into James' grip for support, but he knew that he wasn't going to be able to stay upright much longer.

"Sirius, this is no time for childish games," Orion finally said, lowering his wand. "You will come home with me now, or you will be disowned, blasted off the family tree, and never allowed back within the House of Black."

"Father, I never thought you to be so slow," Sirius said coldly. "That has been my plan all along."

Orion stiffened. For several long moments, no one moved. Sirius met his father's gaze, not wavering for a moment. He needed this and he wasn't going to crumble under his father's will ever again. Finally, Orion's features hardened with resolve as he tucked his wand away.

"As you wish," Orion said lowly.

And that was it. Sirius' father turned on his heels and marched back down the path. As he exited the gate there was a _crack_ and he was gone.

Sirius took in a sharp breath as his knees finally gave out. James had clearly been expecting it, because he was quick to duck under Sirius' arm and support him as they stumbled back into the house.

That was it. He was free. He never had to return to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black ever again.

"Sirius? You okay?"

Strangely, Sirius wasn't able to focus enough to comprehend who was speaking. It was like a haze had suddenly filled his mind.

"Get him to the couch. Poor boy is in shock."

He should be happy, shouldn't he? He should be celebrating finally escaping his sadistic parents. So why didn't he feel happy? Why didn't he feel anything? Wasn't this exactly what he had wanted?

"What's wrong with him?"

Sirius blinked, but his vision was starting to tunnel.

"He's been through so much in such a short amount of time. Most people who had been through the Torture Curse wouldn't be out of bed for days, let alone go through the emotional stress that he just went through."

"But he's going to be okay?"

"Yes, dear. He just needs time and rest."

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he opened them again, he haze seemed to be clearing from his head.

"Sirius? Can you hear me?"

"Sorry," Sirius mumbled, struggling to focus on the faces that surrounded him. He was slowly realizing that he was sitting on the couch with a blanket thrown over his shoulders. He was shivering. "Sorry about all… all that."

"Listen to me, Sirius," Mrs. Potter said. She sat next to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault. Do you understand me?"

"They… they don't want me…" Sirius said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. Emotion was welling up inside of him and his vision blurred. "They've never wanted me. Why… why didn't they want me?"

Even though it was his choice to leave, Sirius still couldn't help but feel the sting of his father's indifference when his decision had become clear. Your parents were supposed to be the only people in the world to love you unconditionally, weren't they? But ever since he was little, Sirius had never felt anything akin to love from his mother or father. He had been tolerated, but never loved. And that fact had become so much clearer when Sirius had witnessed just how easy it was for his father to turn his back and walk away from him, knowing he may never see him again.

"Sweetheart," Mrs. Potter said quietly as she carefully wrapped an arm around him. Sirius found himself leaning into her embrace, willing himself to melt into her. "I don't know. I don't know why they wouldn't want a kind, intelligent, and wonderful boy like you. But I will tell you this for certain: we want you. We will always want you. And you will call this place home for as long as you'd like. You will be safe here with us, darling boy. I promise you."

And in that moment, something within Sirius Black crumbled. Years of holding back his emotions suddenly came flooding out of him as he dissolved into tears, burying his face in James' mother's shoulder.

Sobs wracked through his already aching body, weeping openly for the boy who had clearly been born to the wrong family. Crying for the boy who had spent the first eleven years of his life trying to live up to the expectations of parents who saw him simply as property. Aching for the boy who was so starved for affection that a passing pat on the shoulder from his friends' parents could practically send him crashing to his knees with gratitude.

He had no idea how long he stayed like that. Eventually though it seemed that he simply ran out of tears.

"There, there, dear," Mrs. Potter soothed. "It's alright now. It's alright."

"Th-thank you," Sirius murmured, his voice still thick with emotion. He felt the simple words did nothing to encompass the depth of his gratitude to the Potters for giving him someplace to escape to, but it was all he had to offer them.

He looked from Mrs. Potter and then over to Mr. Potter who was sitting in a nearby armchair, watching the scene with a somber expression. In that one day alone, both of these people had done more for him than his biological parents had done for him in his entire lifetime.

"You don't need to thank us, Sirius," Mrs. Potter assured him, giving him a smile that was so pure and sincere it was practically seraphic. "Now, I want you to head upstairs and go back to bed. I'll be up in a little while with some food. Can you make it up the stairs alright?"

"I'll help him," James volunteered.

James helped Sirius off of the couch. Sirius struggled going back up the stairs, relying heavily on James to make the trip, and he was relieved when they finally made it back to the guest room and he was able to lay down again.

"We'll fix this room up when you're feeling better," James said conversationally as he helped Sirius get settled. "Mum will let you decorate anyway you like. We can write to Peter and Remus, I bet they'll come over for New Years to help."

Sirius swallowed and the corners of his lips twitched upwards, the beginnings of the first honest smile since he had left Hogwarts for Christmas break.

"That sounds good," Sirius agreed quietly even as he was starting to drift off.

Sirius Black didn't have a normal upbringing. While other first years were being encouraged to work hard and have fun at school, he could remember his father lecturing him at eleven years old on the importance of finding a nice, pureblooded girl that he would someday marry. The oppressive upbringing had caused Sirius to rebel almost immediately after gaining some freedom at school, having both his first cigarette and his first drink before he turned twelve, though he wouldn't regularly indulge in either until several years later. Even without a full understanding of how skewed his parents' views really were, he was still a very troubled child.

Reflecting on his early years at school, he knew that he had had the potential to go down a very dark path. His parents had tried to make sure of that, despite the fact that it went against his nature. Being forced down that path would have torn him apart. If it weren't for his friends, he shuddered to think what would have become of him.

And now, at sixteen years old, he was offered the Dark Mark, given the opportunity to join the ranks of Lord Voldemort.

Looking back, at eleven years old Sirius had never considered defying his parents. He hadn't even known it had been a possibility. But the Sorting Hat had set him on a path that would show him just how different the world really was outside of his parents' narrow-minded views. All those years ago, it had set him up to think for himself and form his own opinions. It showed him that he could take control of his own life.

And at sixteen years old, Sirius Black forcibly took his freedom by running away from the life that his parents tried to force on him. It would not always been an easy path that he walked, but it would be one that he had chosen himself.

And with those thoughts still clear in his mind, he was lulled into a peaceful sleep in a house that felt more like home that Number Twelve Grimmauld Place ever would.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Diagon Alley II Forum Competition:**

 **The Fairy Tales Challenge Prompts**

 _ **Fairy Tale (10 pts) -**_ Snow White - Write about a runaway.

 _ **Word (5 pts each)**_ \- Seraphic

 _ **Songs (10 pts each)**_ – Seven Years - Lukas Graham

 **Total Points: 25**


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